Meatpile of Mystery! (Open Crack Threading!)

[whitewolfzita.livejournal.com]

(Inspired by silliness in chat and the not!kink meme)

Your character(s) went to sleep in their usual cubby hole in the sleeping halls.

All seemed well and normal.

But this? This is weird. They wake up to find themselves in a pile on something soft, entangled with various other crew members.

The natural response, I believe, is "What the HECK did I do yesterday?!"

At least most of you are fully clothed...

(Yes, there is a perfectly innocent explanation for this. But your characters don't know that.)

Comments

[likeapoison.livejournal.com]

"I thought it was already there?" The arm knock prompts another hiss from Toxin, but a glare from Pat quickly shuts the symbiote up. Pat frowns as he tries to make his own way out of the pile. "This is like the Twister game from hell."



"It's a game kind of like this, although usually everybody knows what's going on and it isn't as awkward. ...Also, there's fewer people to step on."

[morphitudinous]

"True. Also, Twister rules stipulate a player limit, and no two limbs may occupy a single space. That game is usually associated with physical excitement, and I would hardly describe this involuntary encounter as pleasant." That awkward subject, bringing up memories of his friends' junior high parties, catapults Billy right back into verbose mode.

Risking drawing further ire from the others in the pile, he gathers his strength and attempts to jump out. Wrenching his hands free, he feels around the open air and discovers that they're on an elevated platform.

"...well, there's another complication. We're slightly elevated, meaning that we'll likely have to fall out."

[likeapoison.livejournal.com]

"I'll tell you when you're older." Pat manages to free himself, idly brushing away a few tendrils that Toxin is flicking in annoyance. Peering over the edge, he frowns as he attempts to judge the distance. "Slightly's better than really?"

[morphitudinous]

"In a manner of speaking." Frustrated, Billy shoves again and gets halfway out, torso suspended from the pile almost like a plank sticking out of a green mountain.

Once his head clears, Pat's odd question comes back to him. "Tell who?" All Billy can tell about the 'thing' he hypothesizes might be talking is that it's a snapping blob. Possibly with tentacles. Nearsightedness, you're really a curse sometimes.

[likeapoison.livejournal.com]

"Him." Pat jerks a thumb at Toxin, who coils up on his shoulder. "He's, uh, talking in my head." He frowns as he looks back to Billy. "You want some help?"

[morphitudinous]

"Ah. My apologies for appearing to threaten your...friend's space. It wasn't intentional." Billy's voice is a little off as he attempts to address Toxin. It isn't the most unusual thing he's seen, but new all the same.

Shaking his head, he attempts to look back into the blur of a pile. Someone's stubborn grip has ensnared his legs. "No thank you, I believe I can---" he reaches down and shoves against the floor, dragging a body with him. "I can manage."

Another shove does it, and he tumbles out to the floor. "Whew."